


Two of Cups

by PostcardsfromTheoryland



Series: April Tarot Card Prompts [14]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Keith (Voltron) is Bad at Feelings, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-15
Updated: 2020-04-15
Packaged: 2021-03-01 20:33:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,348
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23663158
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PostcardsfromTheoryland/pseuds/PostcardsfromTheoryland
Summary: The Two of Cups: Partnerships, sharing from the heart, healing through affectionLance and Keith finally have that talk about how being a martyr is bad and learn some things about each other in the process.
Relationships: Keith/Lance (Voltron)
Series: April Tarot Card Prompts [14]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1686346
Comments: 7
Kudos: 73





	Two of Cups

**Author's Note:**

> Follows directly after the Knight of Wands.

After Keith has stumbled out of the pod, hearing restored and cracked ribs healed, after he’s been bustled into the kitchen for a meal from Hunk and a lecture from Shiro, after the Orb of Renäsde has been returned to the Viniz, after Lance’s heart has finally returned to a normal rhythm, everything is quiet.

It’s late, and the others have gone to bed, Keith included, but Lance is still too keyed up, imagining all the horrible ways Keith’s idiotic maneuver could have gone wrong. Keith had apologized to all of them over the meal of leftover taco things the Viniz had sent over in gratitude, going so far as to apologize to Hunk and Pidge who weren’t even there to see it, too focused on keeping the Vinizet system from crashing without the orb there to run it.

And Lance knows that Keith was sincere about the apology, but at the same time it feels hollow, because…

Because Keith will do it again. And again. Constantly putting his teammates’ or a random alien race’s well being above his own, not thinking about the consequences. For all Lance teases him about being a cat, one of these days, Keith’s nine lives are going to run out.

They’d both agreed to keep their relationship on the downlow, worried about what Shiro and Allura would say about two paladins being romantically involved, but right now he wants nothing more than to go wake Shiro up and explain the situation and beg him to drill some sense into Keith, because clearly whatever Lance was doing wasn’t working.

He wants to go back, sneak into Keith’s room and just hold him as he sleeps, remind himself that Keith is ok and has lived to make a stupid, reckless sacrifice another day, but he’s just so tired. He’s weary. Exhausted, despite the fact that he’d barely done anything in the fight.

Lance is still lying on the floor of the small observatory they’d discovered a few months ago, staring up at unfamiliar constellations, when there’s a hiss of the door opening and closing and the light shuffle of slippers on carpet before Keith is lying down next to him.

“You said you weren’t angry,” Keith says, and though it’s a hushed, whispered thing, it still feels impossibly loud in the space.

“I’m not,” Lance says. “I’m really, really not, I promise.”

“You didn’t come to bed.”

“I don’t know what to do,” Lance admits.

There’s a hesitation from Keith, then, “You said you wanted to talk.”

“Are you up for this?” Lance asks, looking him over. Keith is physically fine, of course, the pods are magical like that, but they always leave a person feeling worn down and drained.

“Couldn’t sleep without you, anyways,” Keith says, a tiny confession that would normally have Lance melting into a puddle. As it is, he settles for leaving his palm up in the space between them and smiling, just a bit, when Keith automatically curls his hand into Lance’s. They stay there for a while, Lance’s fingers shifting to press in and feel Keith’s pulse.

“You can’t keep doing this to me,” Lance eventually says, because he’s said everything else before, tried everything he could think of to make Keith understand.

“I know,” Keith sighs.

“Do you? Actually, though?” Lance asks, and it’s harsher than he intended, but he can’t help it.

“I had to get the orb back.” It’s a repetition of what he’d said in the cockpit of the Red Lion, and while the Viniz were certainly happy to have it returned, Lance can’t shake the feeling that it might be a tiniest bit of an excuse.

“I had an idea,” Lance says. “You could have waited to hear what I had to say, which wouldn’t have involved any of us being in danger like that. It wouldn’t have done us any good if you’d gotten really hurt” _or worse_ , he chooses not to add, “while trying to get it back.”

“I’m not,” and Keith breaks off, but Lance stifles a gasp because he thinks he knows how that sentence was going to end. _I’m not important_. “I’m a Paladin,” he settles on instead. “I, we, need to protect people that need protecting. Isn’t that what Coran told us, that first day of training?”

“He said the Paladin Code ‘demands you put your team members' safety above your own,’” Lance corrects. “Pretty sure that doesn’t mean ‘charge headfirst into an exploding asteroid field without listening to your boyfriend’s plan.’”

“I’m just trying to do my job,” Keith says, as if he’s the postman attempting to deliver letters in slightly inclement weather. “I’m trying to do things quick and end the war so everything’s ok when you go home.”

It’s an odd phrasing. ‘When _you_ go home.’ Not _we_. Lance turns it over in his head, absently running his thumb over Keith’s knuckles, until it clicks. _This_ , Lance realizes, is what he’s been missing. Because all this time, Keith’s had it in his head that whenever the war was over, everything would go back to how it had been before they’d left. That everyone else would go home and Keith would go sit in that rundown shack again, alone, fending for himself, no support system. If that were his envisioned future, it’s no fucking wonder that his sense of self-preservation is shit. What’s the point of surviving to the end of the war if _that’s_ your homecoming?

“Keith. You’re a fucking dingbat.”

“Hey!”

“No, listen to me,” Lance says, turning onto his side and facing Keith. “I love you.” It’s not the first time he’s said it, not by a long shot, and it certainly won’t be the last, but right now he just wants Keith to understand the truth of it. “I love you, but you’re an idiot if you think I’m not taking you home with me the moment this war is over.” And Keith is giving him that scared, wide-eyed stare again, and Lance isn’t sure if it’s because he didn’t expect that answer or that Lance is fucking sobbing.

“I want to take you home with me,” Lance chokes through his tears, “I want you to sleep in the bed I grew up in and I want Ronnie to tease us for holding hands underneath the table during dinner and I want my mom to fuss over your hair before a big family gathering and I want my dad to awkwardly invite you to watch football matches with him even though neither of you will actually understand what’s going on. I want to take you to the beach and teach you how to swim, I want to see you get chased down the street by my old neighbor’s asshole Havanese, I want to cook you my mama’s famous yuca recipe because I know you’d hate it but you’d try to pretend because I’d made it for you.”

Keith shudders with a single sob and Lance drags him into his arms, letting Keith sprawl on top of him, head on Lance’s chest, hands still clasped together.

“I can’t do any of that if you’re not there to come home with me. Ok? Do you understand now?” he asks, brushing Keith’s tears away with his free hand. “You’ve never been there, but I already know it wouldn’t really be home without you there with me. My family’s never met you, but I already know that they want to meet you and that they love you, because _I_ love you and they love _me_.”

“Lance,” he manages, voice wrecked, “‘m sorry.” Lance just holds him, holds them both, until breathing gets a little easier, until things aren’t quite so intense.

“I want to take you to see my dad,” Keith sniffles after several minutes.

“We’ll bring him some flowers,” Lance agrees.

“I’m sorry,” he says again.

It feels different, this time. Lance thinks, hopes, prays, that he’s gotten through to Keith. That maybe there won’t be a “next time,” after this.

That Keith understands just what it means, when Lance says he loves him.


End file.
